I cried briefly in the shower this morning.  I’m guessing many who don’t live alone find the shower a [safe] place to let out emotion.  Sometimes bothering others with our fears.doubts.lows seems unnecessary.  And sometimes I just need a moment of privacy to let out a few tears.  And while it’s cliche, the water washes and refreshes and takes away.

It’s been a week of sad thoughts.  It’s January [my least favorite month], which doesn’t help.  

On Wednesday, I looked into the faces of two exhausted [physically and emotionally] people who had given their entire workday as volunteers, working with homeless.  The center was low on volunteers Wednesday, meaning the bulk of work fell on the two of them.  No paycheck.  Just a “good job, see you tomorrow”.  This scenario coming after my husband had read me a letter to the editor.  A rather crude, ugly letter about homeless and the problems they afford.  

Saturday morning I greeted a homeless man at the door of a church.  Not a church I attend.  I just happened to be there at a work event.  He was a grown man, but thinking back, he really was more like a child.  His nose was snotty.  He seemed dazed.  He wanted food.  I gave him a plate of breakfast.  He wanted money.  I said no and suggested he visit a couple places that might help him.  He came back to the door a while later, asking again for money.  I said no and sent him on.  He was who the letter writer was referring to.  

My daughter has a friend whose mother died this week.  A brief illness, and now she’s gone.  What do I tell my daughter?  What will she say to him when he returns to school?  Kids that are 13, maybe 14 years old, dealing with so many questions.  So many thoughts.    It’s hard enough to be in middle school.  A bomb threat two weeks ago, honor band auditions, tests, hormone induced emotions, decisions regarding high school.  And now death.  A mom who won’t be at the 8th grade promotion ceremony.  Or high school graduation or a wedding someday.  

Wishing sadness away doesn’t help.   And I’m not sure I want it to.  I hope I’m never [not sad] about these types of occurrences.  

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